Flock of Crows
by Rachel McN
Summary: During a midnight run, he was ambushed. Now he fights.


**A/N:** Wow, I've been away for far too long. Oops. Just...life, you know. Wonder if anyone still cares at this point xD Regardless, I found some documents on my computer that were never posted. So let's clear these out, yeah? Still been reading/faving/alerting, branching out my fandom interests, and like to think I might have learned/picked up the odd thing from reading those with great writing skills and ideas. I'll tidy up my old stories, dust off these files and post them before I lose nerve (again) and maybe write out some of the ideas that keep swimming round my head but don't get the justice of writing they deserve (just a quick note jotted down to keep them alive). If anyone's still interested, then...wow, what did I do to deserve people like you? And to any new readers; hello, welcome, thanks for popping on by and I hope to see you around again ^^  
>Any and all criticsm and advice is welcome, I think I'd like to start taking my writing more seriously now that I have a calm(ish) period of my life right now, so show me what you got!<p>

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><p>Once more the blade comes at me, golden street lights glinting of the polished metal.<p>

Once more I bring my own blade forward to meet my enemy's.

Once more the clear, singing note of metal clashing reaches my ears.

And the rhythm remains undisturbed.

When one opponent falls, another takes their place.

Same black cloaking garments.

Same sharp bladed swords.

So identical I'm almost fooled into believing I fight only one enemy.

But no matter how many times I slay him, my enemy returns to fight.

They know I'm wearing.

I know that is what they want.

I know they are playing with me.

When first the black crow-like ninjas attacked me, I attempted to fend of every one.

But they would have easily killed me that way.

I think they see this as a game.

Each one steps forward to fight me, intent on victory.

Each one thinks they can slay me.

Each one falls at my feet as another takes their place.

I think they are challenging each other, betting on who can kill me.

I think I'm developing my own game.

Counting how many times I fell my indestructible opponent.

The ninjas surround me, crowding, waiting.

Like vultures.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I have no time to ponder my thoughts.

Another attacks.

As I twist under his sloppy swipe, swinging my blade at his chest, I catch sight of my shellcell.

It lies just behind the flock of ninja.

It is useless to me, too far away.

I put it out of mind.

My arms are growing heavier, my breaths deep and pleading.

Another comes.

I narrow my eyes, ignoring how my feet betrayed me, stumbling beneath me.

I fight.

The blade catches the tender area between my shell and plastron.

I grit my teeth, unable to prevent a small whine.

I can hear the sneers, the jibes, the laughter tossed my way.

Fury rises in my chest, and I harness its energy, lashing out and catching the one who wounded me.

He screams.

And another comes.

My head is screaming at me, telling me what I already know.

I can't win this battle.

I can't escape this battle.

But I can die in this battle.

My eyes blur as I lock swords with another.

I shake my head furiously, trying to dispel the burning tears, but my distraction costs me dearly.

My screech splits the air, and I flinch away, cradling my injured hand close to me.

My fallen sword spins away across the ground towards its companion.

The dark mass closes in around me.

It's over.

I'm alone.

I'm defenceless.

I'm dead.

The black surrounds me, thick, dense, suffocating.

And they attack.

I have no breath left to scream, the attacks are too numerous, too forceful.

I fall to the ground, and my attackers seem to take some sick pleasure from the cries of pain and panic that leave my lungs.

My world is growing smaller as I close in on myself in a last attempt of self-preservation.

I pray for my brothers, my father, my friends.

I pray that they will be safe.

I let my last living thoughts drift to them.

Cries on the battlefield.

Shouts, metal meeting.

I choke back a sob.

My brothers? Too late.

A sword drives towards me and I'm unable to summon the strength to move.

It's as if my life has already deserted me.

I hear a tiger's growl, and watch as the vultures and crows scatter.

The tiger attacks with a vicious snarling, stabbing his teeth into the panther.

I blink, disorientated.

No, not a tiger. My brother. Raphael.

And the Foot.

My eyes flicker, searching for the rest of my family.

They're not here.

Raphael has come alone.


End file.
